“Nice hickey,” her sister said with a snicker.
“Oh. Ohhh.” She fluttered a palm over her neck. Then very primly, very properly, she added, “Thank you. I’m quite fond of it.”
Faith’s smile stretched from ear to ear. “I swear you’re glowing.” A mischievous sparkle lit her turquoise eyes. “So what have you two been doing? Besides redecorating?”
“Just what you are thinking, I am sure,” Tristan quipped.
Julia gave him and his sun-kissed chest a hungry—not that she’d admit it—glare. He bore four scratch marks below each of his nipples and a little hickey of his own next to his navel. “Aren’t you cold without your shirt?” Hint, hint. Those muscles were for her eyes alone.
“Nay.” Half grinning, he languidly stretched his arms over his head. “I am not. I suddenly feel hot, as if I should remove what little clothing I have on.”
Me, too, she longingly added, and took a mental step toward him.
“Lord save me from horny adults,” Faith muttered, her voice heavy with wistfulness.
Julia was having trouble drawing her attention away from her lover. I’ve got it bad, she thought. Real bad. With regret and much effort, she schooled her features and faced her sister again. “What were we talking about?”
Faith hooked dark strands of hair behind her ears. “I was about to ask you how the rest of the date progressed, and tell you I had a lot of fun with Peter, but I don’t think any more words are needed, really. So I’ll just be leav…waiting for Julia to finish cooking us lunch,” she said with a grin.
Tristan gave a mock growl, and Julia laughed.
“Fine. I’ll cook.” Considering neither of them knew how to boil water, what choice did she have? Julia filled three mugs with steaming coffee, then handed one to her sister, one to Tristan and saved the last for herself. “I know it’s lunchtime, but I’m craving breakfast.” She peeked inside her fridge. “We have eggs and bacon, but no sausage.”
“I can live with that,” Faith said. “I’m starved.”
Tristan nodded. “Me, as well.”
Humming under her breath, she fried the bacon, scrambled a dozen eggs, then browned and jellied several pieces of toast.
Faith’s stomach rumbled as she eyed the mountain of food. “It’s official. I’m moving in.”
“Faith may have this first helping,” Tristan said.
“First helping?” Her sister seemed to choke on her tongue.
Julia laughed. “Let Faith take what she wants, and you can eat the rest while I make more,” she told Tristan. “Before hunger gets the better of you and you try to eat me.” As soon as the words left her mouth, she froze. Gulped. Remembered. “Uh—I mean…”
“No need to correct yourself, Julia,” he said huskily. “Truth is truth.” His fingers brushed hers, sending stark awareness through every inch of her, and for a silent moment, they peered at each other, the plate suspended midair.
When she neared him, she could only think of bed play. Right now, even though he had already loved her body thoroughly—several times—she wanted to rip their clothes away.
“Later,” she whispered.
He gave her a wink, a sensuous sweep of his lashes and said, “Later.”
Or now? Her heart slammed erratically in her chest. Oh, I’m a wanton woman. “Sorry, Faithie.” Julia didn’t spare her sister a glance. “You’re gonna have to take your food to go.”
* * *
SEVERAL GLORIOUS HOURS LATER, Tristan nestled Julia against his side, their skin sticky with strawberry jelly. “I’ll never view breakfast foods quite the same,” she murmured with a satisfied grin.
“Nor I.” He smiled. Every moment with this woman offered a new pleasure. “Every meal I consume after this will be compared to our buffet of carnality and found lacking.”
“We should probably take a shower.” She swirled her fingertip around his belly button. “You’ve got jam everywhere.”
“A shower, aye. But first…” Suddenly serious, he rolled her onto her back, pinning her beneath him, her hands imprisoned above her head. They were palm to palm, breasts to muscle. “I wish to ask you a question.”
The change in position placed his growing erection right where he liked it most. Obviously, she felt the same. Heat flared in her eyes, and she uttered a sexy purr. “Ask me whatever you want.”
He did. “What are your feelings toward me?”
Bit by bit, the heat cooled in her expression. She stilled. Looked away. “Um, I care about you.” Her words were hesitant and heavily measured. What had caused this change in her? “You know that.”
“Aye. I know.” Disappointment flooded him. He wanted more from her. While he could not give her a declaration of his own love, he wanted one from her. Mayhap ’twas selfish of him—it was absolutely selfish of him. He licked her collarbone. “I, too, care about you.”
“I—thank you,” she said, and it sounded like she had to push the words past a lump in her throat.
He bit his tongue, tasting blood. Don’t do it. Don’t say— “Do you love me?” That. Don’t say that.
“Do you love me?” she countered.
He wanted to answer, but couldn’t. Instead, he decided to show her how he felt. He moved his fingers between her legs, circling the dew he found there. His mouth quickly followed.
He kissed her everywhere, leaving no part of her unexplored. He had her writhing, screaming, and when he finally entered her, they both moaned at the rightness of it. He took his time loving her, thrusting slow and deep. Only after she peaked twice did he allow himself his own release.
When his shudders subsided, he fell to his back and stared up at the ceiling, keeping her at his side. “I—I want to thank you for all you have done for me, draga.”
Tenderness softened her eyes as she caressed his cheek. “We’ve helped each other, Tristan.”
“Aye, but I do not think you will ever know just what you have done for me.” How could he put this into words? “You’ve given me back a piece of my soul. My pride. My honor.”
Still caressing… “You’ve given me confidence and adventure,” she responded. “You’ve shaken up my boring
